


Shared Life Experiences

by canadiandutchiefangirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Activism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Peggy Carter, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Bucky plays piano, Clint is kind of a matchmaker?, Clint really likes teen party games apparently, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, Gay Steve Rogers, Happy Ending, Hot Chocolate, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Mutual Pining, Nat starts a nerf gun war, Nighttime chats, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Panic Attacks, Past love confessions, Reminiscing, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Steve is bad at reading signals, Who Knows?, and steve's being a bit dramatic about it, but not anymore, cause they used to be together, i know i kinda made the avengers a bit childish, i'm just living out my 2012 post-avengers all-the-avengers-live-in-avengers tower fantasy okay?, is that homophobic politician a reference to a certain real person?, montage of memories, or just Gay Peggy Carter, press conferences are fun, pretty much, references to old songs bc i'm sappy as shit, they deserve to be goofy, they're literally in a closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23405761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadiandutchiefangirl/pseuds/canadiandutchiefangirl
Summary: So much has changed in the seventy years that Steve was under, and now, in the 21st century, he realizes that he no longer has to hide those parts of himself that he used to.But it isn't that easy, because when Bucky comes back into his life, he remembers all those feelings they’d had to hide back then that they wouldn’t have to now. But he isn't sure if that’s what Bucky wants - because it's been a while and feelings may have changed.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, implied Tony Stark / Bruce Banner
Comments: 6
Kudos: 180





	1. Part One: Coming Out

The future was different.

Steve knew that that wasn’t exactly a profound statement, but the difference hit him every day. Many were positive, some negative – though more in a nostalgic than objective way.

One night, not too long after the Battle of New York, they’d all been lounging in the tv room of Avengers tower, half-watching some drama or other. He hadn’t really been paying attention, and when he glanced over at the screen, he saw what looked like to be two men on a date.

His first thought was that this must be a parody of some kind. But as the scene went on, the romantic tone never wavered.

He was so enthralled by this couple, these two men in love, on the screen, that he didn’t notice the others watching him carefully.

Tony, Natasha, and Bruce watched him cautiously, uncertain of how he’d react. Of course, they hoped for the best, after all, Steve was a very decent guy, and he hadn’t been weird about women or people of colour at all so far. But, on the other hand, he had grown up in the thirties.

On the screen, the blond one knelt down and reached into his coat for a ring box. Steve inhaled sharply, eyes stinging, as the other man nodded tearfully. The two embraced, laughing as they lost their balance and tumbled to the floor.

Steve became aware of the others watching him and rose quickly. “Uh, bathroom,” he muttered before rushing out of the room. He knew how it looked, what the others must be thinking, but he didn’t want to be seen having such a strong emotional reaction to a damned soap opera of all things.

He made his way down to an empty hallway and leaned against the wall, eyes closed. He took a few shaky breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Flashes of memory plagued his mind. Sneers. Hurtful words thrown like punches. Hiding in dark places from actual punches. Better memories accompanied them. Laughing blue eyes. Knowing smiles. Kisses in dark hiding places. Small cots and tangled limbs.

But always in secret.

“Steve?” a quiet voice asked.

Steve nearly jumped and quietly turned away to wipe any trace of tears from his eyes. When he turned back, Natasha stood there, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, looking concerned.

“Hey, Nat,” he said, grimacing at the hoarseness of his voice.

“You good?” she asked, and, as Steve was starting to realize with her, she really wanted to know. And he didn’t know what to say.

To say something out loud that has always been a secret between two people, never vocalized in a voice above a whisper, something that’s never been seen in full sunlight, is a feat nigh herculean.

So he just shook his head.

Nat simply pursed her lips, nodded and pulled him into a hug.

LGBT history was added to his list of research topics as an important category on its own. He made his way tearfully through documentaries about Stonewall with Nat at his side. He watched his first pride parade from a distance, not quite ready yet to participate.

Finally, when Steve had once again pulled Nat out of the room to tell her this new thing he’d learned about (Elton John!), she’d said, “Look, man, I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but have you thought of coming out to the others? I promise that they’d be super chill about it.”

Steve looked at her uncertainly. “Are you sure, I mean, I like them and all, but…”

“100% sure,” she said. “They know I’m pan and, hell, I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between Tony and Bruce, with all that tension.”

The benefit of the internet was that research was so much easier – not just academic research, but research into how people did things, their stories and experiences. Steve read nearly every article about how to come out to one’s friends. But, no matter how much research he did, he didn’t feel quite ready.

That was, until one day, as he was about to head out for a run, he heard his name on the news that played almost perpetually on the tv. He leaned into the room to see what it was about.

A politician who looked vaguely familiar was on the screen – white hair, clean-cut – “… he’s the kind of hero we need as a role model, you see. A traditional man, from a simpler time. I would much prefer my sons to look up to Captain America than Iron Man – who drinks excessively and has a new woman on his arm every time you see him.”

“I’ll have you know that Pepper and I are going steady!” Tony called from the kitchen. “Although we do have an agreement.” He winked at Bruce, who rolled his eyes.

The news host came back on the screen. “That was Senator Johnson at a press conference earlier today. He is leading a small faction of senators against L-17, the proposed nation-wide ban of conversion therapy for minors.”

“Obviously, I support the LGBT+ community,” Johnson said a bit awkwardly. “But I also support parents’ rights to raise their children as they see fit. This law is an infringement of people’s freedom of religion.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. He had definitely heard of this guy before – notoriously homophobic but tried to keep up the nice, reasonable guy routine.

“Hey, Tony,” he said. “How long does it take to set up a charitable organization?”

Not very long at all, apparently. After a week of meetings and long hours, Steve found himself with a door between him and a crowd of reporters.

Tony came in and grinned. “Don’t know how you did it, but here are more reporters in there than there were when I announced I was Iron Man.”

“Well, Captain America doesn’t hold a lot of press conferences,” Nat said. “So, they know it’s big.”

Steve smiled, trying to look confident. He’d never liked talking to the press, even back in the day. Then he’d just had to talk about beating the Nazis and try to keep up morale. Now he was about to say something to the whole country that he’d never really said out loud before. He hadn’t really had to come out to the rest of the gang per se. They had kind of figured it out through his determination to get this done as quickly as possible. A kind of silent understanding.

But this had to be him. and maybe he was doing it out of spite – he did wish he could see Senator Johnson’s face – but the more he thought about it, he knew it was bigger than that.

He wanted to make sure that no one in this country had to grow up like he did – hiding.

So, with one last deep breath, a reassuring nod from Bruce, a smile from Nat, and a slap on the back from Tony, he stepped through the door and out in front of the crowd.

Questions exploded at him and he quickly walked over to the mic. “Hey, everyone. Glad you could make it. Uh, I’ll take questions in just a sec.”

The crowd quieted down, and Steve took a moment to clear his head and slow his racing heart. “I am here today to announce the launch of my charitable organization, _In the Light_. And it will be for the support of LGBT+ teens across the country.

The reporters clamoured with questions again. Steve was sure he heard Senator Johnson’s name thrown around. He gestured for them to quiet and continued. “This is something I’ve been wanting to do for a while, but certain recent events have made me realize that I am sometimes associated with, well, ideas and values I disagree with a lot.” He paused. “Those who yearn for a simpler time, when things were more traditional, must remember that people have always been gay, bi, pan, nonbinary, asexual, all the things people are now. And I’d know, because, well, I’m living proof.” Mutters grew. “I was born in 1914, and,” he paused for a fraction of a second. “I am gay.” He stopped again as the crowd burst out with questions and waited patiently for them to quiet down. “And while I don’t want to dwell on the negatives, I do want to be honest. It wasn’t always easy. Sometimes, it really sucked. Everything had to be secret and hidden – and sure, we found ways around it, but that didn’t improve the circumstances. I want to help make sure that no one has to hide as I did.” His voice shook a little and he took a moment to clear his head. “Cause no kid should be ashamed of who they are.”

Satisfied that he had said enough, Steve took questions from the reporters.

“Are you referring to Senator Johnson’s statements last week?”

“I…” Steve’s diplomatic nature almost took over but remembered all the harm Johnson could do. He was really just another bully. “Hearing him connect me with his homophobic views did encourage me to go public with this earlier than I had intended, and one of the organization’s first focuses will be on the law banning conversion therapy and getting it passed. But this is bigger than one bigoted senator – this is about helping the kids who suffer because of people like him.”

After a couple of questions from other reporters, a much younger reporter from a news source he didn’t recognize, asked. “Just wanna say, love this a lot. We stand with you. Could you say trans rights?”

Steve smiled. “Absolutely. Trans rights.”

The kid – because really, it was a kid – grinned.

“Well, I’d say that’s a perfect conclusion for this,” Steve said. “Thank you all so much. Call your reps and tell them to vote for Bill L-17 and donate if you can. Thank you.”

When he got through the door, he saw Nat, Bruce, and Tony all watching the screen. They looked a little teary-eyed.

“Great job, Cap,” Tony said. “Way to stick it to that son of a bitch Johnson… And help the kids too, of course.”

Bruce merely nodded and smiled.

Nat grinned. “Told you they’d be chill with it.” When Steve shot her a look, she added. “The country, I mean.” She paused. “Well, obviously, you’ll get hate. Like a lot. I would recommend staying off the internet for like two weeks at least.”

Steve noticed that his heart rate had gone back to normal and he looked at them. This was good.

Time passed and he got used to people knowing. The old panicky feeling in his chest when the topic came up subsided. The organization grew. The bill passed – for which Tony threw a party.

Steve got to travel all around the country, opening up shelters and homes for kids who were kicked out or felt unsafe at home. He helped reps in various states push for LGBT+ inclusive sex-ed curriculum.

And he talked to the kids. That was simultaneously the best and worst part. The best because they were all wonderful, and smart, and funny, and brave, and strong. So strong. The worst because of their stories. The stories his so close to home sometimes that hall he could do was hug them and tell them things would get better as he tried not to cry.

He didn’t realize how emotionally draining it was until one day Bruce came to visit him in his hotel in Miami and found him staring at a wall.

“Y’alright there, Cap?” he asked.

“Mmm?” Steve said, not looking away. “Yeah, I’m fine. Long day.”

It took Bruce a little bit to get the truth out of him, but when he did, he just sighed and said, “If you go on like this, sooner or later, you’re gonna burn out and it’ll take months to get back to normal.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“How long had you been staring at that wall before I came in?”

Steve shrugged. “Not long.” When Bruce raised his eyebrows, he continued. “Like twenty minutes. You’re right. But I can’t stop.”

“You don’t have to stop, just don’t push yourself so hard, okay? It’s not just you, other people work for this organization. Like actual therapists who are trained to deal with this. You don’t have to go full hands-off, just, you know, take a break every so often.”

As it turned out, the break from _In the Light_ would come in the form of Avengers work. Steve left the organization in the hands of some trusted employees as his whole world turned upside down for a while.

And then Bucky was back. Bucky who had been by his side as long as he could remember before everything happened. Bucky who had shared a bed with him since they were teenagers and he had started living with Bucky’s family.

Bucky, who had kissed him in a dark alleyway at age fourteen. His first kiss. For almost as long as they had known each other, they had been a little more than friends.

Bucky, who would arrange dates with all the gay and bi girls he knew so that they could go out together without suspicion. When they went to the movies with Ruth and Sarah, he and Bucky would sit on either side so the girls could sit together in the middle. Then they would stand guard outside a janitor’s closet afterwards talking loudly about the movie. And if worst came to worst and there was any trouble, they could keep the girls safe.

Bucky, who was now living with them once everything had quieted down. And while they got back into a reasonably familiar rhythm, there was a degree of separation.

Neither of them dared to step across that thin line between the platonic and the romantic. After all, it had been so long. Feelings may have changed.


	2. Part Two: Dancing Cheek to Cheek

One night, Steve was working late, looking over status reports from the offices of _In the Light_ all over the country on the kitchen island. He heard soft footsteps in the hallway and looked up to see Bucky enter the kitchen. He wore a sleeveless shirt, pyjama pants and the Darth Vader slippers Nat had given him as a ‘welcome to the Avengers’ gift (something about him also having a metal arm). From his lack of metal arm and how his hair was all flattened on one side, Steve could tell he had been sleeping.

“Hey,” Bucky said quietly.

“Hey,” Steve replied, intending to go back to his work, but he couldn’t help stealing glances as Bucky moved around the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients for hot chocolate.

It was so nice to see Bucky in a normal, homey environment in regular clothes. Something about it let Steve relax in a way that he hadn’t been able to in a long time.

As Bucky opened the cabinet, he looked over at Steve, who quickly ducked his head to look back down at the papers in front of him. When he dared to look back half a minute later, Bucky was smiling to himself as he prepared two mugs of hot chocolate.

Steve thought about saying something. He thought about saying many things – all the things he had wanted to say since he had found out Bucky was alive. All those old memories and old feelings that had resurfaced.

But the silence was nice too. There was no real awkwardness between them, just comfortable quiet.

Bucky leaned against the counter, watching the two mugs turn around each other inside the microwave – always the same distance apart.

Steve thought of the last time they were at a dance hall. They didn’t know it was the last time, of course, just another Friday night – with Suzie and Maria this time.

Once they had danced with the girls for a little while – long enough to keep up the ruse of being their dates – they had gone to sit down and let the girls dance for a while. It was not entirely uncommon or improper for two girls to dance together for a bit, so no one really looked at them funny.

As he and Bucky had a drink, their fingers linked loosely under the table, hidden by the dark tablecloth. They spoke in low voices – loud enough that they could hear each other, but no one else could over the music.

Steve had been going on about something – he couldn’t remember what – but he remembered Bucky’s soft smile as he listened to him babble on.

At one point, his smile widened, and Steve stopped and asked, “What?”

Bucky grinned and looked down. “Nothing.”

Steve leaned closer, an elbow on the table. “Seriously, what?”

Buck looked up again, grip on Steve’s hand tightening a little, blue eyes soft and full of something. The corner of his mouth tugged up into a half-smile. “I just like hearing you talk about things you’re passionate about.”

There had been a silence between them then too – a hopeful silence. It was skies the same colour as Bucky’s eyes, it was all those nights falling asleep and mornings waking up in the same cot, it was Bucky teasing him about his terrible coffee, it was Bucky singing at the top of his lungs until his mom kicked them out of the house for the afternoon. It was a feeling that looked towards the future. An apartment of their own where they could be themselves without hiding.

And when Suzie and Maria came over and asked them to dance, Steve and Bucky’s eyes found each other across the floor. Even though they spun around the room with the girls in their arms, never close enough to each other to touch, it felt like they were dancing together.

The beeping of the microwave brought Steve back to the present.

Bucky sat down across from him and put the steaming mug in front of Steve.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile, moving some papers aside.

“Deadline coming up?” Bucky asked after a few minutes.

Steve shook his head. “Just reports form the main offices.”

“Hope you’ve got some good accountants,” Bucky said, his voice echoing into his mug as he drained the last of the hot chocolate.

“Mm?”

Bucky grinned, putting the mug down. “You were always shit at math.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Like you were any better.”

“Mrs. Monteiro thought I was a _wonderful_ student,” Bucky said as he put his mug in the sink and rinsed it out.

“Mrs. Monteiro hated you because you never did your homework – which is why you were bad at math.”

“Or maybe,” Bucky said, leaning over the island and resting on his elbows in front of Steve. “I didn’t do the homework _because_ I was bad at math.”

Steve rolled his eyes again but couldn’t help but smile.

Then they held eye contact for a little too long and their faces were very close together. Steve thought he saw Bucky’s blue eyes flit down to his mouth for a second. And his lips were so dry all of a sudden, but he couldn’t lick them, not now – that would be entirely too much.

And suddenly he was overthinking everything – with Bucky, the person he felt most comfortable around.

Bucky must have felt it too because he cleared his throat and stood up straight. “Well, uh, goodnight Steve.”

“Goodnight, Buck,” Steve said, looking down into his half-full cup.

“And, Steve?”

He looked up. Bucky stood up in the doorway, looking like he wanted to come back in. “Yeah?”

The corner of his mouth tugged up a little, and that familiar softness returned to his eyes. “Get to bed soon, you look exhausted.”

Steve nodded. “I will.”

As Bucky’s soft footsteps retreated down the hall, Steve sighed and drew his fingers through his hair.

It was honestly ridiculous, the way he and Bucky were cautiously tiptoeing around each other. To everyone else, they seemed back to normal, thick as thieves, with inside jokes and entire conversations had without words – but they thought they had only been friends, nothing more.

And Steve wasn’t quite sure why. Back in the day, they had been sure about their feelings. Even during the war, they’d understood each other.

About a week after that night at the dance hall, Bucky shipped out. Steve had always kind of wondered whether he’d already known that night and had just wanted to have one last fun night together without the knowledge hanging over them.

A few days later, they were both in the music room. Bucky had been trying to get back into piano since he’d moved in. Steve knew it was because playing had always relaxed him.

It had been frustrating in the beginning, but eventually, with some design tweaks by Tony, Bucky had figured it out.

Now, a few months in, he could play as well as before.

Steve liked to work in there when Bucky was practising. As he read over quarterly reports and proposals from people on the ground and did final edits of speeches, hearing Bucky slide between the hymns his mother approved of, the jazz she most certainly hadn’t, and newer music was some of the best support.

“I watched your press conference announcing the start of _In the Light_ the other day,” Bucky said, somehow effortlessly transitioning from Amazing Grace to Oops, I Did It Again.

“Yeah?”

Bucky chuckled. “Coming out to the entire country partly to spite a dickwad politician is one of the most you things you’ve ever done.”

Steve smiled and looked up from his laptop. Bucky was watching him with that look – that clear blue skies look. The tempo of the music turned jazzier and the melody turned into an old familiar song, one they played often in those dance halls before the war complicated their lives.

As he continued working, part of his mind tried to remember the lyrics, but they were just a bit out of reach.

Bucky had played on for a while after that, and it wasn’t until after he’d left the room that the words came back to Steve:

_Heaven, I’m in heaven_

_And my heart beats so loud that I can hardly speak_

_And I seem to find the happiness I seek_

_When we’re out together dancing, cheek to cheek_

He looked up to the now-silent piano. It was the song that had played the night he had danced with Peggy in the army camp, which wouldn’t make sense for Bucky to refer to if not for the events that followed.

After Steve’s successful rescue of the captured soldiers of the 107th, including Bucky, there had been a huge party. They had all gotten rather drunk – except for Steve, of course – and danced late into the night. When Peggy pulled Steve into a dance, he’d lost track of Bucky for a while. That was until _Cheek to Cheek_ began to play and the dancing slowed. As he swayed with Peggy, he saw Bucky turning away, downing a bottle as he went.

“Hey, Peg?” he said, standing still.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be right back. Bucky’s…” he paused. “I gotta make sure he doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning; it would make my whole rescue a waste.”

She smiled. “And since no one’s gonna remember anything they see tonight, I have to find that redhead Star-Spangled dancer who was making eyes at me earlier.”

Steve quickly caught up to Bucky, who was wandering aimlessly through the rows of tents and trucks.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve fell into step beside him.

“Oh, hey, Steve,” Bucky said. “Get tired of Agent English already?”

Steve was so stunned he didn’t say anything for a full thirty seconds. Finally, he said quietly, “What do you mean by that, Buck?”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” he said.

“She’s my friend, Buck.”

He turned and raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Sure.”

Steve sighed. “It’s not like that, okay? You know I’m… well, I’m not…” he sighed again. “You _know_ what I mean.”

“It’s just weird to see you, like,” he gestured vaguely at Steve. “this. And everyone else, well, they see it too. And they, you know, like you and the girls want you – I see them – and probably some of the guys too, cause, I mean, who wouldn’t. And it’s stupid but, you know, I was first. And they can’t know that, but I want them to.”

As Bucky babbled on, Steve led them closer to his tent. But before they could go inside, Bucky grabbed his arm, stopping them in the deserted muddy path.

“You know what I mean?” he asked and as they locked eyes, Steve realized that Bucky wasn’t half as drunk as he thought he was, although he certainly had had a lot of drink.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I do.”

“And, like, you don’t really need me anymore, cause you’re, you know.” He gestured at him again. “So, I don’t want to hold you back, and if you were with someone else, that’s entirely up to you and I wouldn’t want to stand in your way –”

“Buck,” Steve grabbed his shoulders. “I don’t want to be with anyone else. I –” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to.

“I love you, Steve,” Bucky said, and it was all Steve could do to make sure he’d dragged him into his tent before kissing him.

As they tumbled onto the cot together, he had only a few coherent thoughts. One, he was very grateful that his position as Captain America meant he got his own tent; two, he hoped that Peggy had found that redheaded dancer; and, three, that their cot at home had been comfier. All other thoughts were hidden beneath the haze of Bucky, and Bucky saying he loved him and knowing that he loved Bucky.


	3. Part Three: Seven Minutes in Heaven

“So, are they, like, a thing?” Clint asked Nat after supper one day when he was visiting the tower.

Nat shrugged. “Not officially. They definitely used to be a thing, but now they’re just kinda… dancing around each other.”

Clint nodded and looked over at Steve and Bucky who were sitting on the couch talking quietly.

“I know that look,” Nat said. “You’re not gonna make us play Spin the Bottle again, are you?”

“I stand by that decision,” Clint said confidently. “It was _fun_ and informative. I discovered that basically none of us are straight – which was new information for more than one of our teammates.” He looked pointedly over at Tony and Bruce.

“True.”

“And I found out that Thor is a great kisser.”

“Alright, I get it.” Nat smiled. “But what are you planning for them?”

“Just another good ol’ classic game originally played by preteens that makes one confront their feelings.” He grinned before turning to the rest of the group. “Anyone up for a fun game of Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“This is ridiculous,” Bruce said as they all wrote their names on pieces of paper and tossed them into a bowl.

“Yeah, what are we, twelve?” Tony chimed in.

“Remember how much Spin the Bottle did for the group?” Clint asked. “This will help us work together better.”

Nat rolled her eyes but tossed her name into the bowl as well.

“I’m a little confused,” Steve said, gamely writing his name down as well. “How does this game work?”

“It’s quite simple,” Clint said, mixing up the slips of paper in the bowl. “Two names are drawn at random and then they have to spend seven minutes in a dark, enclosed space together.” He looked around. “Like a broom closet or something.”

“A closet?” Bucky asked, incredulously.

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit on the nose for all of us,” Clint said. “Bear with me.”

“But what’s the point of the game?” Steve asked.

“It gives horny teenagers a chance to make out,” Nat said.

“Or, adults who are bad at expressing their feelings.” Clint wiggled his eyebrows. “So, for our first two lucky candidates.” He paused dramatically as he fished around the bowl for the two slips of paper. He noticed Steve and Bucky glance at each other, one right after the other, so they just missed each other. He grinned. The tension was there, now all that was needed was an opportunity. He read the names of the two slips he’d chosen. “Steve… and Bucky.”

They looked at each other again; smiling nervously, unsure how to react. There really wasn’t that much difference between them and the kids who normally played this game, Clint thought. Adults should really play this more often to force them to confront their feelings.

“Alright, you two,” Tony said, quite enthusiastically. “Into the clo- Well, you know.”

Nat noticed her feeling of excitement with slight embarrassment as the door closed behind them. She wasn’t some teenager at a party happy that her friend got with a boy they liked. But she did really want them to get together already. Even if it was partly to get Steve to stop asking her for advice. He tried to disguise it but was surprisingly bad at lying.

“Hey, Nat, I need some advice about this story I’m writing.” That was the first one.

“I thought you were an artist, not a writer.”

“I am, but I’m trying out new hobbies.”

“Okay, what do you need help with?”

“So, the main character has a love interest,” he said. “and, basically, this character wants to tell them how they feel, but I don’t want it to be some big cheesy speech, you know?”

She’d almost called it out. She would’ve been about to tease him forever about it. Maybe if this game really worked, she could tease him about it after.

Instead, she’d said, “If this character wants it to be really meaningful, have them tell them in a quiet moment, just between the two of them. And just be honest – no big planned speech or anything.” She smiled. “The words and feelings they describe should be the central focus, not the gesture.”

Steve smiled. “That was beautiful, Nat. I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

“And if you tell anyone about it, I will deny it and they will believe me.”

He nodded. “Got it. Thanks for the advice.”

On the other side of the closet door, Steve and Bucky had settled into seated positions on the floor. In the almost complete darkness, Steve could only just make out Bucky’s silhouette.

“So,” Bucky said, drawing out the word. “I guess we’re just gonna sit here for seven minutes.”

“I guess,” Steve said quietly.

They were both quiet for a little bit.

“Not exactly new for us, though,” Bucky said finally.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked. “The literal or the figurative closet.”

Bucky chuckled. “Well, both, I guess, but I mean, you and I and dark spaces have a lot of history.”

Steve wished he could see Bucky’s expression. From his voice alone it was difficult to tell what exactly he meant by that. “True.”

Another long pause.

“How long do you think it’s been?” Steve asked.

“I dunno,” Bucky said. “Maybe three minutes.” He paused. “Do you think Clint picked us on purpose?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Steve said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he suggested the game with the sole intention of getting us in here together.”

“Huh,” Bucky said. “I can respect that.”

In the silence that followed, Steve began to hum ‘Cheek to Cheek.’ Maybe telling Bucky how he felt right now wasn’t the best idea, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t test the waters first.

“Been listening to some old familiar tunes?” Bucky asked.

“Not really,” Steve said. “You played it the other day, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky said. “I’d always thought it was way too cheesy, but now, I kinda like it.”

“Mm, it does have an element of comfort to it.”

It was quiet again.

“Did Peggy know?” Bucky asked suddenly. He didn’t need to elaborate but did anyway. “About you and me?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “She knew before I told her, before she’d even met you.”

“Couldn’t keep your mouth shut about me, huh, Steve?” Bucky knocked a knee against Steve’s. “She must’ve been like, ‘Why’s he so obsessed with this guy?’ and then she met me and was like, ‘Oh, I get it. He’s hot, funny –”

“Alright, alright,” Steve said, laughing and trying to swat at Bucky in the darkness. “I can guarantee you, she did not think that.”

“Oh, was she into the ladies?” Bucky asked. “We sure seem to hold the acquaintance of a lot of lesbians, bi and pan girls.”

“Yeah, that night, I’m pretty sure she and Katherine, one of the Star-Spangled dancers, had a rendezvous.”

“Was that the red-head?” Becky asked. “She _was_ good looking, and her legs…”

“Alright,” Steve said, rolling his eyes.

“What, Steve, are you jealous?” Bucky reaches forward and patted Steve’s arm. “You know I’ve only got eyes for you, baby.”

Instantly, they both froze, and Steve felt Bucky’s muscles tense. They had just crossed the line into romantic territory. The easiest thing to do at this point was to play it off, but neither of them really wanted to do that – they weren’t straight guys dealing with homoeroticism.

The other option was, of course, to just go for it and confess their feelings, but before a decision could be made either way, the door of the closet opened and light flooded the small space, momentarily blinding them.

Clint, Nat, Tony, and Bruce peered in at them and Steve and Bucky blinked at them.

“Damn, they’re not even making out,” Clint said.

“Maybe because this game is for thirteen-year-olds,” Nat said, rolling her eyes.

The next day, Steve hesitated a moment before knocking on Bucky’s door. “Hey, Buck,” he called. “ready to go?”

The door opened and Bucky stood there, in athleticwear and his hair tied back. Steve would never say it, but he loved it when Bucky wore his hair up.

“Yep,” said Bucky, “Let’s go.”

Soon they were the Central Park, running down the paved paths. They didn’t speak much; they didn’t normally, but today was especially quiet.

At a narrower part of the path, someone coming the other way knocked into Bucky’s shoulder slightly. Bucky stumbled a bit but quickly regained his footing.

“You alright, Buck?” Steve asked from behind him. his hands had shot out to study him but stopped just short of touching him.

Bucky didn’t say anything but kept running, so Steve assumed he was fine.

He started to up his pace though, to the point where Steve knew even he couldn’t keep it up for long. He noticed Bucky flexing his fingers and realized something was wrong.

He was about to suggest they stop for a bit, when he noticed a tremble in Bucky’s leg and managed to have the presence of mind to grab his arms before he fell. Bucky was trembling all over and Steve noticed how his eyes darted all over the place. His breathing was shallow.

Still holding his arms, Steve asked. “Buck? You good?” His eyes flitting over Bucky’s face in concern.

Bucky shook his head slightly. He seemed to try to focus his vision on Steve’s face, but his eyes kept flicking elsewhere.

“What do you need me to do?” Steve asked, growing aware of the odd looks they were getting.

“I need to go home,” Bucky whispered.

Steve nodded. “Okay, I’ve got you.”

As he led Bucky back towards the tower, and Bucky’s strides grew stronger, Steve dropped his arm from where it had rested on his shoulders. But Bucky quickly grabbed his hand and held it like a lifeline.

Back in Avengers Tower, they stepped into the elevator wordlessly, still holding hands. Bucky leaned against Steve slightly. Steve looked down at him and saw that his eyes were closed tightly and his free hand – his metal hand – was clenched in a fist.

When the elevator dinged, Bucky tensed again, and Steve squeezed his hand comfortingly and put his free hand on Bucky’s shoulder. As the elevator door opened and they stepped out, Steve saw Nat, Clint, and Tony in the living room. Nat turned to them and Steve quickly shook his head at her. She understood and promptly pulled out a nerf gun – from somewhere – and shot both Tony and Clint in quick succession. They were adequately distracted, and Steve and Bucky were able to slip past to Bucky’s room without being seen.

In Bucky’s room, Steve closed the door and sat them down on the bed. With one hand he held Bucky’s and the other, he rubbed his back in slow circles.

After a while, Bucky’s breathing evened out and he rested his head against Steve’s chest. They sat like that for a while, in relative peace and quiet – although they could hear some sounds of the nerf war outside the door. With his eyes closed, Bucky looked quite peaceful – like he did when he played piano. Steve wished that Bucky could always be like that – comfortable and at peace.

Some time later, Bucky sat up straight and took a deep, slow breath. He avoided Steve’s gaze.

“Are you…” Steve didn’t want to say ‘alright,’ because he clearly wasn’t alright. “doing better?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s voice was a little hoarse. He cleared his throat and glanced at Steve quickly. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Steve said.

Bucky stood up – a little shakily – and walked over to the sink. He splashed cold water on his face and leaned over the sink, staring at his reflection.

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” Steve said, feeling helpless.

Bucky’s eyes flickered to the side, where he could see Steve in the mirror. “No, it’s fine. I’m…” he hesitated. “I’m sorry you had to see me… like that.”

“What do you mean, Bucky?” Steve asked, standing up. “You’re still you. We’ve both got our baggage, but you’re still you.”

“But I’m not!” Bucky burst out, turning around, his eyes welling up. “I’m not Bucky who made mischief in Mrs. Monteiro’s class. I’m not Sergeant Barnes who fallowed you into battle. I’m all these fragments and bits and pieces glued back together after being torn apart. And some bits are in the wrong spot and I’m sure some bits are lost and I’m not fully me anymore, okay?” His voice broke on the last word and the pain – oh, the pain in his eyes and his voice and his words made Steve’s chest hurt.

“You’re not the sum of your parts,” he said, stepping forward and grabbing his hands. “Yeah, you’re not seventeen-year-old Bucky who stole the principal’s underwear from his house on a dare. You’re Bucky right here, right now, okay? And it’s this Bucky I care about. Cause I –”

“With me to the end of the line, I know,” Bucky said quietly.

“That’s not actually what I –” Steve stopped. “I don’t think that fully articulates –” He sighed.

Bucky let go of his hands and for a moment Steve had thought he had lost his chance again. But then Bucky took his face in his hands and kissed him. He kissed him with all the pain and history and closing that final bit of distance between them. And Steve kissed him like it was simultaneously their first kiss and their last; it was hopeful and desperate and messy and everything they needed it to be.

Everything was so muddled and hurried that he wasn’t quite sure who had started pulling off items of clothing first or who had pulled who into bed, but it didn’t matter. For the first time in a very long time, everything made sense and Steve was happy.

Lying in bed, warm and safe and tangled up in sheets and limbs, Steve huffed out a small laugh and smiled at the ceiling.

“What?” Bucky asked, grinning at him as he rested on one elbow.

“I am _terrible_ at reading signals, aren’t I?” Steve looked over at Bucky.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you are. Good god, Steve, I thought you’d never figure it out.”

Steve chuckled and moved in closer to Bucky, brushing his lips against his cheek.

“I was afraid I would have to get one of those skywriting planes,” Bucky said in mock concern. “ _Steve, I’m in love with you. Love, Bucky_.” He gestured the path the words would make with his hand. “Although, knowing you, you’d probably think it was ambiguous.”

“I’m not _that_ oblivious.”

“Then I would keep rose petals in my pockets at all times and scatter them wherever you went, you know, until you’d get the message,” Bucky continued. “Or, if I got truly desperate, I’d wait for you to get engaged to an arrogant douche and then crash the ceremony and make a heartfelt speech.”

“Alright,” Steve said, leaning in for a kiss.

Bucky pulled away for a moment to say, “Or perhaps a boombox outside your window?”

“Shut up,” Steve said, kissing him.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Bucky said with a smile, pulling him in closer.


End file.
